


Stolen Agency

by TQ121



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Cock Ring, Daddy Kink, M/M, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, psychological abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 17:18:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15369465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TQ121/pseuds/TQ121
Summary: Based off ofHyperiontrashbin'sreverse au, where Rhys is the CEO of Atlas and Jack is an up and coming engineer.Set before Jack tries and fails to leave for Hyperion its obvious that the relationship had never been healthy.Or Rhys gets jealous that Jack's eyes wandered at the party and decides its time to remind Jack who he belongs to.





	Stolen Agency

Expensive champagne made everything around Jack fuzzy. Everything from his head to the feeling of Rhys cybernetic arm around his waist felt distant and beyond his reach. Jack felt warm in their quiet intimacy, with his head resting on the older man’s shoulder. It was a peaceful reprieve from their busy lives.

But as the doors to the penthouse automatically closed behind them the sharp crack of Rhys palm to his cheek reminded Jack why he feared silence as a child.

Timidly Jack looked up. Rhys really wasn't too much taller than Jack, just an inch or two that was extended by Rhys’ habit of wearing heeled boots, but the tension in the air made the upward travel if his eyes feel drawn out.

His stomach dropped seeing the narrowed eyes aimed at him making Rhys’ faint crows feet more prominent. 

“What the hell did you think you were you doing tonight?”

Jack’s drunken haze cleared a bit as he backed up away from Rhys. His heart thumped in panic as the words ringed in his head.

“Are you running away from me Jack? After what you did?” Rhys grabbed his wrist with his chrome cybernetic arm. The grip was tighter than human flesh could ever accomplish.

He felt tiny in Rhys’ grasp. Even if Jack was younger and stronger than him, Rhys was bigger than life. He had turned the already powerful Atlas into a company with no real competition, and all the determination and force of will that had gotten him there was looking down at Jack like he was an insult.

He felt like the small boy crying in his closet after finding his dead kitten on his bed.

He had promised himself he would never feel like that again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jack admitted hating how his voice wavered.

Rhys closed his eyes and his lips moved silently counting to ten. The tension in Jack’s shoulders relaxed as Rhys let go of his bruising wrist, and Jack let himself breathe.

The crack of Rhys’ hand against Jack’s cheek once again echoed in the penthouse. Tears budded on in the corners of Jack’s eyes against his will, but he was able to keep his hands loose at his side. He itched to fight back, Jack always itched to fight back, but he’d been put back in his place enough times to curb that instinct.

“You are such a bad lier, Jackie.” Rhys growled. “I saw your eyes on that slut from marketing.”

Rhys must have seen the fear in Jack’s eyes, because he stopped stalking towards Jack. His shoulders seemed to slump a bit, and he almost looked old.

“Am I not enough?” Rhys asked almost self consciously. “I know I’m on the wrong side of 40, but you never seems to mind before.”

He ran a hand through his hair, and spoke if almost talking to himself. “In my bed I’ve driven you to pleasures you could never imagine, taught you things about your body that you never knew.”

Hands up apologetically Rhys then closed the gap but his expression turned to ice. “But at the first sign of bit of ass and you're practically swinging your dick around!”

Rhys was just playing Jack like a fiddle.

Jack flinched at the crude imagery. Rhys could paint an elegant picture if he wanted, but the crass words hissed in his ear made Jack’s skin crawl.

“Babe, it's not like that!” Jack smiled defensively and held his hands up as Rhys grabbed both his shoulders. Desperately he searched his memory of who Rhys was talking about. He didn’t really remember anyone but Rhys from the party. After what felt like hours under Rhys’ stare he guessed. “Do you mean Carol?”

The way Rhys’ echo eye narrowed made Jack regret saying her name, and he laughed awkwardly trying to figure out why he didn’t realize he had been staring at her. All he could think of was how the champagne kept everything a bit muted. “I mean you know how stupid I get when I drink too much. I can’t even focus on what I’m looking at sometimes.”

Briefly Jack wondered why that was. It never seemed to be as much of a problem in college. Maybe he was becoming a lightweight, but he also knew every glass he touched was in Rhys’ hands first and that Rhys took a surprising amount of control in what Jack did or didn’t put into his body at the party. Freezing Jack pushed away the lingering thought, because now Rhys was smirking in dark satisfaction.

“So you admit, you can’t control yourself.” Rhys leaned up close, and seductively curled his fingers in Jack’s hair, and then tugged hard enough that he pulled some of it out of his scalp.

“That's not what I’m saying, you’re the one who kept putting drinks in my hand.” Jack argued even as he could smell the sour alcohol on Rhys’ breath.

“And I expect you to hold your liquor like an adult.” Rhys growled, and jerked Jacks head back farther exposing his throat. “Don’t worry, daddy knows how to help you, Jackie.”

His let go of Jack’s hair, and then gently patted him like a dog. “Don’t move.”

Head held back with his neck exposed Jack swallowed down the fear in his throat not daring to move. Holding the pose wasn’t easy with the way the boze still wanted him to sway, and how holding his head back seemed to make the blood rush to the back of his skull.

Daringly Jack clenched and unclenched his hands, but resisted the need to straighten his neck. Jack wasn’t as old as Rhys by a long shot, but he still wasn’t so young that keeping such an awkward position wouldn’t leave him stiff and sore for days.

He would just have to endure.

As Rhys took his time in the other room Jack tried not to let his thoughts go to dangerous places. He didn’t want to think about Rhys possibly drugging him for his amusement, or the possibility that Jack was set up tonight. He might start thinking about the letter Hyperion sent him with an offer that was already hard to refuse. 

If this is how Rhys acted with wandering eyes he didn't want to know what Rhys would think about him joining Atlas' biggest rival. 

He kept getting more and more possessive and with it more controlling. It made the well controlled rage in Jack boil. It was the part of Jack that was sick of being walked on by everyone, but he knew listening to it would only get him hurt even more.

So instead he thought about the tenderness earlier, and how Rhys let Jack lead on the dance floor. It was both a gift and a way to display Jack to the crowd. Rhys loved how broad and masculine Jack and often compared him to Adonis.

Rhys loved showing off how confident and good Jack looked, until the music changed and Rhys adjusted their positions taking charge on the dance floor once again.

Jack wasn’t sure how it turned from such intimacy to being frozen in fear waiting on Rhys’ ever whim.

Nervous sweat dripped down Jack's nose, and his stomach clenched as he resisted the need to move. Then a soft manicured hand gently tilted Jack's head down, and he was meeting Rhys eye to eye.

He hated how his reaction to Rhys after all this wasn't fear or anger but instead a blooming warmth in the pit of his stomach.

Rhys had streaks of grey in his hair and fine lines on his face, but he had a body that reaped the rewards of his strict regimen to maintain his figure. He was painfully handsome even if some would argue he was past his prime, and it made Jack ache.

“You did very well.” Rhys praised, holding Jack still with one hand. “Strip.”

Rhys stepped back, no longer in his formal wear but barefoot in silk pajama bottoms and a matching robe. In his hand he held a box, and he he watched Jack like a wolf watching a steak. Jack didn’t want to be any more vulnerable right now.

The warm feeling grew cold, and he stumbled back with annoyingly slow limbs. He had just barely been able to control his temper minutes ago, and now Jack couldn’t help the defensive sneer that curled along with his rising fear. “What are you planing?”

With a disappointed sigh, Rhys turned behind himself and tossed the box he held onto the couch. “Jackie, what part of strip made you think you could talk?”

Jack flinched at the continued use of the demeaning pet name. He hated it almost as much as he hated being called John, and he didn’t want to put up with whatever kind of bullshit Rhys was up to now. He was sick of this hot and cold game.

“Look, I don’t know what you are playing at, but if this is some sex game it isn’t fun.” Jack sneared.

Jack honestly didn’t know what he planned to accomplish as he puffed up in front of Rhys. It didn’t matter because Rhys wasn’t impressed in the slightest and stalked forward with malicious intent.

He could have punched Rhys, he had more than enough strength to knock him flat on his ass. Part of Jack was screaming at him to do it and run and never turn back. Instead cold fear hit his gut when his back hit the wall.

Jack didn’t understand it. Why couldn’t he fight? Why did he let Rhys pin him to the wall? It was the impotence of his childhood all over again.

Rhys loomed over him stroking Jack’s cheek with the warm metal of his cybernetic arm.

“You should know by now, daddy doesn’t play.” Rhys cooed gently. “And that I hate back talk.”

Jack barely recognized Rhys lifting his hand away before it cracked against Jack’s skull making his head spin.

“Fuck!” Jack growled and held his own chin. Blood was dripping from his cut lip, and he looked up at Rhys feeling his suppressed violent streak trying to well up again. 

Rhys sneered, and said. “This is about reminding you who you belong to, Jackie, but it seems like you are going to need a harsher lesson than I thought.”

Jack pushed Rhys away growling, and Rhys was forced to step back. “Fuck you.”

The silk robe slide down Rhys’ chrome arm as he lifted it up, and swung again snapping Jack’s head back and crushing his nose.

Pain blossomed across his temples, and his eyes squinted as blood began to pool out of broken capillaries bruising his skin. Side stepping so he was no longer pinned against the wall Jack tried to shake off the dizziness. Jack knew  how to work through the pain, but the alcohol and other drugs in his system made fighting the dizziness hard.

Rhys didn’t wait for Jack to regroup himself, and slapped Jack across the face again still using his cybernetic hand. It was telling that Rhys was using it when he was painfully left handed. He would joke the only reason he was as skilled with his right was because the cybernetic was so responsive. He didn’t even bother making it a fist after the first strike, and used it more like a bludgeon to beat Jack into submission.

And fights go faster than people think. People aren't resilient enough to go through the long choreographed hollywood extravaganzas, and blows to the head were more disorianting than people often thought.

Rhys always made sure had the upper hand, and he wasn’t going to give Jack a chance. Corporate war had taught him long ago that hesitation was how an easy win became a loss.

He left Jack on all fours panting and spitting up blood, and Rhys calmly inspected his hand making sure it hadn’t been dented in the scuffle. Satisfied he licked blood off his knuckles and tisked down at the beaten man at his feet.

With a mournful expression he knelt down and gently pushed Jack’s hair out of his face, and ignored how Jack flinched.“I didn’t want to do that, Jack. You know I hate punishing you, but it's necessary for you to learn.”

Shaking Jack looked up his eyes squinting as the flesh around them swelled and haphazardly wiped the blood from his chin. His desire to run had literally been beaten out of him, and Rhys looked so sincere. “I, I’m sorry okay. I don’t know why you can’t trust me to be sorry.”

“I don’t know why you can’t trust me to take care of everything.” Rhys counterted and cupped Jack’s face in his hands. “Instead you run away like I’m some monster.”

Because you are, a tratorius voice whispered in Jack’s head. Instead he lowered his gaze. 

“That’s not true.” He lied with a nasally voice, terrified Rhys would break something other than his nose if he didn’t make things right again.

“Then why are you treating me like one.” Rhys whined, and the sound was so vulnerable it hurt.

“I spend all day surrounded by backstabbers trying to get a piece of the pie without doing any of the work.” Rhys continued petting Jack’s hair. Slowly untangling gelled strands, and soothing him like a scared beast. “All I want is someone who is loyal to me. Who sees me as someone other than their meal ticket or roadblock to power.”

“I wanted a nice night with a handsome devoted man by my side to distract me from the vultures.” Rhys then kissed Jack’s sweaty forehead, and Jack’s eyes fluttered close.

It felt so gentle and so kind, almost like the caring touch of the father Jack never had. Even as his face ached Jack still desired Rhys’ touch and affection. “What do you want me to do?”

“That’s my good boy.” Rhys praised, and ruffled Jack’s hair. He then stuck his hands under Jack’s armpits and helped him stand up.

Rhys steadied Jack on his feet, and then untied Jack’s bowtie.  Rhys explained. “Let's get you out of these ruined clothes and wash you up first, and then I’ll show you how we’re going to make sure your eyes don’t stray from daddy again. Hows that sound?”

It sounded like Jack didn’t have much of a choice, but at the same time Jack didn’t want to fight any more. He didn’t know why Rhys couldn’t always be like this. “Sounds like a plan.”

He got a bright almost childlike smile from Rhys in response who immediately began to strip Jack in the penthouse living room. His wool tux hit the floor along with his bow tie and blood stained shirt. Rhys smiled in appreciation of Jack’s body, and Jack tried to smile back even though it hurt his face.

Rhys undid Jack’s belt, and his smile widened as he went for his zipper. He then skipped pulling down the pants, to slid his hands between Jack’s boxer briefs and skin.

“This part always feels a bit like my birthday and mercenary day rolled into one.” Rhys admitted, and slid pants and underwear both down Jack’s hips in one movement.

Jack snorted and immediately regretted it. Not only did it feel like his nose was full of broken glass, but also how it meant he was now swallowing his own congealed blood. It was a painful and gross reminder about how mercurial Rhys’ moods were.

Rhys was sinking to his knees, and Jack realizes he must have made a pained noise. “Don’t worry I’ve got some anshins in my bathroom.”

“Its okay.” Jack mumbled but was ignored.

Instead Rhys was more interested in the dick he was face to face with, and he winked at it. “Hello there beautiful.”

Jack whispered in amusement. “You’re such a nerd.”

Rhys then slid his hands down Jack’s legs taking his pants down with them, and carefully lifted up Jack’s feet one by one to remove his shoes and socks. He then wiped his hands on his pajama bottoms, and ordered. “Step out of them, and help me up.”

Dutifully Jack stepped out of his pants leaving himself completely naked in front of Rhys. He then offered his right arm for Rhys who used it to help himself stand. Jack was never sure when Rhys asked for that kind of help if it was because he wanted to feel the corded muscle of his arms or if age was finally taking its toll on his knees. Jack never bothered asking because he knew which answer he would get.

Rhys wrapped his arms around Jack clinging in a way that almost seemed desperate, as if Rhys thought Jack could run from him in his naked and bloody state. Jack was subdued, and let Rhys hold on carefully returning the hug still unsure how he stood.

“Good boy.” Rhys rumbled in Jack’s ear, his voice dark and silky. “Let’s clean you up now.”

Jack nodded and ached when Rhys pulled away to grab the discarded box. He didn’t even look back as he made his way to the master bathroom, and he didn’t need to because Jack followed behind like a lost puppy.

In the bathroom Rhys sat Jack down at his vanity, and he carefully started wiping the blood from his face. Each pull of his skin burned and ached, but Rhys didn’t stop until the wash cloth was bloody and Jack’s teeth where on edge.

Rhys opened a vanity drawer decorated in gold filigree that bordered the lines between tasteful and tacky. Inside was a collection of red syringes with Anshin’s label proudly displayed on each one.

“This is going to hurt.” Rhys warned, and Jack almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

His nose was shattered and he could barely see his reflection in the mirror because his eyes had swollen so much, and Rhys was warning him now that it was going to hurt.

“I can take it.” Jack answered instead, and held his head up waiting for the injection.

Instead Rhys set both hands on either side of Jack’s nose, and then it felt like he was trying to pull it and his face off.

“Fuck!” Jack growled. “What the fuck Rhys?”

Rhys just ignored Jack and practically stabbed the syringe in Jack’s shoulder.

He was rewarded with another cry, and Jack grabbing his arm. His eyes dilated, but almost like magic the swelling in his face started to shrink.

Jack whined and rocked in place as he felt weeks of healing condensed into the span of a minute. His face felt tight and itchy and he resisted the need to vomit, but in the end everything was a dull ache and he could open his eyes fully.

Rhys raised an eyebrow when Jack looked up at him, and told him. “I’ll forgive your language this time, because I know how painful setting a broken nose can be.”

Blanching Jack looked down unable to keep eye contact with that blatant warning. “I’m sorry.”

He then looked up to the mirror, and if it wasn’t for the slight tilt to his nose Jack wouldn’t have been able to tell what had happened. Slowly carefully planing out his words Jack said. “Thank you for the anshin. I, uh, know they are expensive so I appreciate it.”

Rhys’ face curled again into something predatory, and he petted Jack’s head. “Don’t worry, baby boy. I’ve got you taken care of.”

Jack hummed as he tried to enjoy the casual touch. He didn’t think this could last much longer. He was going to have to break free or just break, but Jack nodded because it's what Rhys wanted him to do.

“We still need to teach you some discipline though.” Rhys confessed, and stilled his hand. “I can’t have you out there with wandering eyes.”

Jack nodded again even as his whole body tensed. He just wanted to say no that he was an adult, and the idea that Rhys was going to discipline him was infantilizing. Instead he asked. “What are you going to do?”

Rhys smiled, and took the box he had carried back into the bathroom. “Stand up and put your hands on your head.”

Jack opened his mouth about to protest, but Rhys was already giving him a look.

He hated how his hands trembled as he put them on top of his head.

Rhys sat on the chair in front of Jack, and opened the box with care. Jack’s cock perked up like a well loved pet just from Rhys being so close, but Jack felt that his fear should have made it turtle inside him. At the very least Jack wished it would calm down to end his embarrassment, because Rhys was shaking his head tisking.

Fingers pinched the inside of Jack’s thigh. “None of that.”

Hissing Jack watched as Rhys took what looked like a gold plated cock ring. Rhys only took a minute to slip it on Jack so it circled around both his cock and his balls in a snug fit. Jack’s mind whirled as he tried to figure out what Rhys was doing, but before he could even guess what was up to Rhys was already pulling something else out of the box.

Rhys’ cybernetic hand rested at the base of Jack’s spine holding him so he couldn’t back away. Then he slipped Jack’s cock into a gilded cage.

For reasons unknown to Jack his dick tried to twitch back to life again, but the cage fit nice and snuggly to it and gave it no room to grow.

Jack grew cold, and his eyes widened unable to move or act as Rhys locked the cage to the cockring with a tiny padlock. Smirking Rhys flicked the padlock to hear it click against the cock cage.

Jack could no longer keep his hands on his head as they shook too much and slowly slid down his face in horror. “Rhys?”

“Shhh,” Rhys rubbed Jack’s tummy with his eyes never leaving Jack’s bound dick. “Its okay. I told you I have everything under control.”

It was emasculating. Jack didn’t know what to do. All he knew was Rhys was staking a claim on him that Jack wasn’t ready for. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be ready.

Rhys held Jack’s cock in his hand, and his fingers slipped through the cage to caress the skin there. His dick wanted to respond and swell with excitement and perform for Rhys, but there was no room.

“This is my dick, baby boy.” Rhys explained and squeezed his hand around the bound member. “It belongs to me, and no one but me can touch it without my permission. That's what this cage is to remind you of.”

Jack swallowed the lump in his throat, and he wanted to cry.

“Do you understand, baby boy?” Rhys stood up not letting go of Jack’s cock. He loomed over Jack, and no matter how much Jack wanted to hide Rhys’ eyes locked him in place.

“Yes, Rhys.”

Cruel lips curved into a smile. “You can do better than that, baby boy.”

“Yes, daddy.”

 


End file.
